Curse of the Conqueror
by Writer of the Norm
Summary: With the smell of war in the air, it seems the Conqueror will finally have the opportunity to confront Caesar, the man who took everything from her. But allies are fast becoming enemies, slaves are proving to be more insightful than free men, and the ruler of Greece is losing power over her people, but more importantly, herself.
1. Chapter One

"Cleopatra, the _Queen_ of Egypt?" Atia's eyes widened.

"Yes, mistress," the soldier swallowed, unhappy to be the bearer of such unexpected news. "She arrives in Corinth in about two days time," he bowed his head, not quite sure if to display respect or simply avert the burning hazel eyes of the general.

"Why weren't we told about this? What game is she trying to play?"

The soldier groaned inwardly, knowing he will have to answer to her onslaught of questions. Some of which, he won't have the answers to. "Mistress, Cleopatra insists she sent a messenger a month ago to inform Corinth of her intentions. Poor boy probably never made it across the Mediterranean," he shrugged.

"Who's accompanying her?" Atia tapped her fingers on the armrest.

"She comes with her personal guards and servants." He waited for a reply but only the rhythmic sounds of skin hitting wood filled the grand office of the general. He looked up towards the general. She was lost in thought.

"My men interrogated the party thoroughly," he offered. "I feel confident in stating she is here for no more than a visit to the Conqueror. Possibly to discuss the grain issue. She will only stay for a few days before she heads to Rome."

"To Caesar," Atia added. "The Conqueror will not return until a week. A visit for nothing I suppose."

"We can't turn her away, it will seem uncivilized," Adonis interjected. A daring move that could have cost any other man severe punishment by Atia. Adonis was different. As the advisor to the Conqueror, his eye for tact and diplomacy had aided the otherwise nomadic warlord in settling in Corinth with the people's admiration, or at least, their fear. Atia knew he was respected by the Conqueror, a circumstance Adonis took full advantage of repeatedly. Goading the generals and his superiors with criticisms, then, like a rat running back to its hole, rushing to the dark ruler's shadow for protection. "We should send word to the Conqueror to quicken -"

"We will prepare for Cleopatra's arrival," the general interrupted. "We will apologize for the Dragon Lady's absence," she smirked, watching as Adonis squirmed at the reference. "And send her off to Rome," the general finished with a flick of the wrist, dismissing the soldier from the room. He bowed and hurried towards the door.

"But, when the Conqueror hears of this -"

"She'll thank me for sparing her from having to show formality to the _mistress _of Rome, of all people," Atia concluded.

The young general watched as the advisor clenched his teeth. She raised an eyebrow as Adonis headed towards the door, slamming it shut in protest of her decision. Atia slumped in her chair, knowing the risky moves she had played. No doubt Adonis would have a messenger relay the news to the ruler, not only of Cleopatra's arrival but also of Atia's unwillingness to inform the Conqueror about it. And the name calling for that matter. Atia snorted in disgust at Adonis's childish antics. She could only hope Xena's hatred for all things Caesar were stronger than an subordinate's rebellious decree.


	2. Chapter Two

Gabrielle looked up towards the sky, at the gloomy clouds hanging in stillness against the backdrop of the heavens. The sombre waves veiled the sun completely from sight. The Gods were constantly toying with man. The last few weeks, Poteidaia had experienced the hot scalding heat of summer in all its agonizing glory. The sun, like a shiny pearl proudly displayed by its fashioner, blinding the mortal peasants with its beauty. The heatwave had lasted so long the elders of the village had begun to suspect that a drought was eminent. Gabrielle's parents had already began to carefully ration their stockpile of wheat in preparation for an uncertain future. Dinner had become less appealing and evolved into a ritual full of tensed silence. Gabrielle had tried hard to savour the bread and appreciate its taste but often found herself feeling nauseous, the anxiety causing her to lose her appetite.

On one such solemn occasion, her younger sister, Lila, had suddenly burst into tears, yelling and stammering as she tried to grasp for air. Gabrielle had looked at her with puzzlement, unable to understand her sister's incoherent rant. But her mother, a kind and caring woman, rose swiftly from her seat and kneeled beside her sister. Hecuba had placed Lila's head against her chest, hugging her close.

"There, there. No one is going to starve, honey." She consoled her softly. Her hand gently stoking Lila's arm.

Gabrielle remembered her father's stare at the scene unfolding before them. Unknowingly, his eyes had glistened for a moment with tears. When he felt the pressure of the gathering moisture tugging at his eyelids he quickly blinked the tears away and gathered his composure. In all the short sixteen summers that she had lived, Gabrielle had never seen her father display such emotion. He had always been a quite figure who worked hard and humbly as a farmer. To him, a man could not display such weak emotions and, with responsibility of protecting his family, he could not _afford_ to either. Gabrielle had no doubt that Herodotus loved his wife and daughters but, in the past, had often wished to feel the affection. Seeing him in that vulnerable moment as he sat across from her at the dinner table, however, had made her change her mind. She had not realized how accustomed she had become to his reserved yet reliable behaviour. As much as she hated to admit, she was relieved he could bare the burdens of the family, it had made her feel safe and protected. As she had watched her mother calm the brunette down, she observed the weariness etched on Hecuba's face. Seeing her parents filled with worry only ignited fear in herself.

But, today, the Gods decided the sun was no longer meant to dangle in front of face of mankind, mocking them like a carrot stick to a donkey. Today, it was a rare precious pearl to be hidden from prying, greedy hands. Thankfully, the air had chilled the night before and the quite, gentle sound of a rain shower filled the valley. Soon it built had into a downpour and, with Lila's insistence, Gabrielle finally went to join the other villagers outside in a gathering full of dancing, cheering and thank-filled prayers to the Gods.

Gabrielle lost her footing on a small rock and stumbled slightly as she continued to trek up the steep hill. The grass was damp with dew and a layer of thick fog filled the scenery before her. It was difficult to see even even an arm's length away. As she continued to carefully hike, her ears perked up to the sounds of birds chirping from the forest nearby. And she thought she heard something else as well. But she couldn't quite understand what it was. It was faint, almost in the back of her mind, as if she were dreaming it. She stopped for a moment to try to figure out what it was. Hands clenched and eyes shut tight, the young blonde tried to comprehend the uneasy feeling that was creeping up. A moment later, she gave up with a frustrating sigh and continued past the hill towards her destination.

It was difficult to see through the white haze but she took her best guess and turned right, hoping she was on the right path towards the well. Gabrielle continued her slow, methodical walk, listening again to the songs of the birds. She attempted to hum along to the sound to keep herself amused but chuckled at her pathetic attempts. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had probably walked too far. For some reason she panicked, as if fearing she would get lost and never be able to find her way home._ Don't be silly Gabrielle. Your turning into a worrywart like Lila._

She turned around sharply and retraced her footsteps until she was back at the foot of the hill. Facing right once again, she headed out into the deep, this time slightly north. As she walked, the grass became scarce, the dark rich soil pregnant with water could be seen. Gabrielle signed inwardly, recognizing the familiar trodden patch of land near the well. As she continued to walk, the grass cleared completed as she found her footing on the slimy mud. Tip toeing so as not to ruin the soles of her boots in the mud. Finally she found the recognized the well head, a simple circular structure built of large stones. She noticed the extra supply of buckets next to it, strewn about haphazardly, probably from last night's storm. Picking one up, Gabrielle lamented at the muddied bottom, scolding herself for not bringing a clean one from home.

The blonde began to methodically retrieve water from the well, as she had done several times before. She placed the water into her portable bucket and sat it on the ledge. Catching her breath from the heavy lifting she noticed something peculiar. The water in the bucket was rippling, rhythmically. She stared at it a few moment in confused amazement. Stilling herself, she listened. That feeling of uneasiness that had nagged her earlier was returning and its roots seemed to be stemming from the ground. In her stillness, she felt the ground vibrating subtly. She held her breath and listened close to what it felt like the rumbled begins of thunder.

She watched the water as the ripples grew intense, the ground began to shake beneath her and the rumble grew louder until she could hear neighing. Her eyes fell forward, trying desperately to see past the fog.

Suddenly out of the fog emerged dozens upon dozens of war horses. They galloped past her at lightening speed, soldiers sitting on top, grunting and urging the horses on. The young girl stood still, frozen by fear. One after another, the cavalry cleared from the fog continuously, as if they were waves endlessly hitting the shore. Hearing a loud neighing, her eyes whipped to the site in front of her. A horse charged towards her. She turned around in an attempt to run away, out of the horse's path, but was quickly caught when a rough hand gripped tightly across her abdomen and swooped her up. Violently, she was thrown on top of the horse like a carpet, her head hitting the the armoured dressing that decorated the mare.

"I've got you now, little girl!"


End file.
